Unhappenings (63 page)

When I learned of Helen’s illness, I finally broke down and traveled to her final week. I had no desire to encounter any of her family or friends, particularly our daughter. As it happened, sneaking into a hospital room did not prove much of a challenge. I sat with her while she slept, on several occasions. Once I held her hand when she woke. Her smile was exactly as I remembered it. I hoped mine was half as enchanting.

When she passed away, I made a conscious decision to drop all travel to the span of time coincident with her life. It was the only way I had left to respect her wishes. I did, however, leave frequent gifts on her grave.

I kept the ring box she gave me that last day. For years, it was my only true possession, the only constant object in my life. That last week, the very last time I went to see her, I planned to slip the ring back onto her finger while she slept. Probably not the most tasteful gesture, I know, but it was all I had. When I picked up her hand, the ring was already there. In all the time I carried the box, I had never opened it, imagining I would not be able to cope with the pain of seeing it. I opened it then, expecting it to be empty. It was not. In place of the ring was a tiny piece of black plastic. A child’s toy.

A miniature stingray.

As always, my perpetual gratitude goes to Guinevere Crescenzi, who will forever be the person who prodded me just the right amount at the right time to get me to start writing novels. Four books later, they are all her grandchildren, so to speak. Thanks also to Steve and Eliza Carabello, Katie Knapp, and Todd Yuninger, for carrying the torch of our writers group, and continuing to provide helpful insight, nitpicking, and generally calling me out when I write crap. Which isn’t very often. But often enough.

A special category of writers group gratitude is due to its other member, my wife, Annelisa Aubry-Walton. The support she provides, and the many forms it takes, cannot be overstated. Bonus thanks go to my daughter Delphi Aubry, apprentice editor and aspiring novelist. At twelve years old, she was already spotting errors and continuity glitches that dozens of adults missed. Two years later, I continue to rely on her keen eye and honest criticism, which is often some of the most mature feedback I get.

The number of beta readers who read the entire manuscript of Unhappenings was significantly greater than either of my first two novels, and for the first time, that group included current students of mine. Every single one of them contributed comments and questions that drove my revisions, and every one of them deserves recognition. So, many thanks to Dorian Hart, Jeanne Kramer-Smyth, Josh Bluestein, Andie McAuliff, Ellen Purton,Tamara Klinger, Ashley Stahle, Ana Carroll, Leeanne Leary, Kayla Zimmerman, and Katie Schweitzer. An additional nod goes to Matt Beck, who convinced me that a book I had always envisioned as a standalone story had genuine potential for a sequel. That next book is currently underway, and Matt will move to the top of its acknowledgments page when it sees print.

Finally, my highest order of gratitude this time is rightfully bestowed on Lori Bentley-Law, author of the fantastic novel
Motor Dolls
. Lori has been the coach I needed to keep me moving and keep me on target, as I have striven to return that favor for her own writing. Trading chapters of works-in-progress with an author as talented as she is has been a boon to my productivity. The two novels I have written so far under this buddy system are the ones of which I am most proud. As an added perk, her books are an absolute joy to read. It delights me to see them evolve, and to be a part of nudging her along. Thank you, Lori, for this partnership, for the quality of your peer editing, and for sharing your stories with me. (PS: I have another chapter to send you…)

Edward Aubry
is a graduate of Wesleyan University, with a degree in music composition. Improbably, this preceded a career as a teacher of high school mathematics and creative writing.

He now lives in rural Pennsylvania with his wife and three spectacular daughters, where he fills his non-teaching hours spinning tales of time-travel, wise-cracking pixies, and an assortment of other impossible things.

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